My Hero
by JosieStyle
Summary: Neal is in need for a hero, because he is really sick. He wanted something that took away his pain. Peter and his wife helping the young man out, with soup, trashcans, and a lot of patience. Read, and make my day!
1. Chapter 1

**"My hero"**

Chapter One

**This is a translated story of mine: **"Weekeinde met held"

**Thank you very much, Melles, for your translating:D **

******Hope you Enjoy!**

**X Josi**

* * *

Someone knocked at the door.

Timidly at first. Then his name was called.

The knocking grew louder after there was no response at all.

Neal heard the voice that sounded like the voice of Peter Burke. His partner. He knew he should say something to let him know that he was there. And that Peter could enter. But he couldn't speak in his current state. He could not even get up.

He lay flat on his back on the red Persian carpet. His arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to fight the cold. One leg was caught between the frames of the chair from which he had fallen during the night. The other leg was slightly bent so that his feet touched the ground. He turned his head slowly towards the door, because Peter had called his name repeatedly. Neal had to swallow several times and opened his mouth to say something. But his voice was weak and faint and far too quiet.

After the knocking had grown in strength, Neal noticed that the last night he was forced to spent on the ground had been anything but pleasant.

xxx

_During surveillance with Jones and Peter, Neal had noticed that coffee had been a bad choice. His stomach felt uncomfortable by the bitter liquid, and this feeling was reinforced after they had arrested the man for a criminal action. The act itself was nothing special and not even an official White Collar matter. But Peter obviously still owed another FBI team a favor. It had been a case of money laundering. The mastermind of the operation was the owner of a restaurant. The perfect cover. The case was solved within a day, and Peter had invited him to dinner at his home._

_Neal hadn't had the heart to cancel the invitation. He loved the visits to Peter and his wife. But that night he had trouble eating. Elizabeth must have realized that there was something wrong with him. She watched him closely. Neal didn't eat and every time he stuck his fork into the food, his face went paler. Out of courtesy he had emptied his plate, but as soon as he arrived at home, all hell broke loose. It seemed as if someone had plunged a knife into his stomach and turned it around. The sweat broke out and within a few seconds he felt sick. He was so weak that he threatened to keel over, face first. Everything tasted burned and suddenly he had a sour taste in his throat. He had spent half an hour in the bathroom over the toilet and after waiting a few minutes without gagging, he decided to lie down. Hoping that sleep would calm down his stomach. He had put on his pajama pants and a shirt. Then he plopped down on the mattress. Just five minutes later, he again felt the uncomfortable grumble in his stomach. Panting and whimpering, he put on his slippers and went back to the bathroom._

_His stomach rebelled and made strange noises and after Neal had thrown up its contents, he went exhausted into his kitchen to pour a glass of water to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth._

_Neal sat on a chair and emptied his glass. He sighed deeply. It seemed that the cramps and nausea had subsided. With a trembling hand he rubbed gentle circles on his stomach trying to appease the gurgling. He massaged for a while until he decided to go back to bed. But when he stood up and pushed his chair back, he was surprised by a nasty stabbing pain. With a cry of fear and astonishment, he fell back. With both arms he clasped his waist and then the world around him turned black._

_The first thing that Neal became aware of when he opened his eyes was that he was lying on the ground. And that he couldn't move anymore._

xxx

Neal needed help. He hoped that Peter could help him. He wanted something that took away his pain. He wished he had told Peter that he had felt uncomfortable at dinner. Then now he wouldn't lie helplessly on the floor.

But Neal is Neal. He would never tell someone frankly what was going on inside his head. Even if he now went to his physical limits.

So far he hadn't been able to tell his partner that he had spent the last night on the floor in pain, unable to move. And now he was so happy to hearing Peter knocking at the door. Panting and whimpering Neal tried to call Peter's name. Because if he didn't say anything now, Peter would probably go away. And the consequence of that would be that he was alone again. But he had no more strength. He couldn't do anything at all! He had repeatedly called for June last night. But the older woman spent the whole weekend with her daughter. Probably the pain and high fever were the reason that he had forgotten that he was alone in the house over the weekend. After he had called for June, the pain had overcome him and he had fainted, again. Still waves of nausea and pain shot through his quivering body, as Neal tried to move. Even breathing was hard. This helplessness scared him.

"Neal Caffrey, I don't know what's going on in there, but I know _you're_ there. So… Tell the woman she should dress quikly, because I'm gonna open this door right away. We are already half an hour late," Peter said with a loud voice. His impatience was growing. Neal was worried and he frowned. He took a deep breath and tried to say something.

"Peter...," Neal whispered hoarse and weak. This word alone gave him pain in his stomach and he doubled up on the red carpet.

"Neal? Answer me! Hell! What the hell is wrong with you? Come on! Open the door, or I will break it sleepyhead!"

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the former con man and he shuddered as he tried to blink them away.

"Y-yes...p-please...," Neal replied weakly. The only thing he could do was to hope that Peter acted on his threat and would enter the apartment. He wouldn't mind at all. He needed Peter's help. And he needed it now!

"Okay, Caffrey. Come on!" The man's voice had a menacing tone and his great impatience was clearly audible. Peter knew that something was wrong. There was a pause. Neal was waiting for his partner to enter.

But nothing happened.

Then he heard the lock turning and the door was opened.

"Pe...ter...," Neal mumbled weakly and closed his red-rimmed eyes for a moment. The pain was gone for now and he bowed his head.

"Neal, I just remembered that I have a spare key... Neal? Neal!"

A faint smile appeared on the pale face from Neal. He didn't care what the agent said. Each word was music to his ears.

With just a few steps, Peter had covered the distance and went to his knees. Two warm fingers pressed against his neck and Neal tried to say something. A hand grabbed his chin and shook it gently, while Peters other hand checked for a pulse. Neal regained some of his consciousness by Peter's gentle touch and shake and he opened his eyes briefly but it was increasingly difficult to stay awake.

"My God, Neal. You are cold. How long have you been lying here on this floor?"

"A-all...n-night," Neal answered. He knew he was crying. The tears were rolling down his face, but he couldn't stop. Despite his tears he could manage a small smile on his face.

"I knew it. El noticed that something was wrong with you, yesterday. You're sick, aren't you?"

Neal sighed and cringed at his attempt to answer.

"What is bothering you? Are you dizzy?" Peter asked with a gentle and quiet voice.

Neal shook his head. This movement caused a sharp pain running through his body. It was difficult to say whether his complaints came from the stomach or if his entire body protested. Because he had been cramped for hours in the same position, everything hurt at once.

Peter sighed. Neal could feel Peter's warm hands searching his body to find some clue. Or an injury. Peter's warmth of his strong hands felt good somehow. But it was anything but pleasant. And when Peter touched his stomach, Neal gave out a whimper. His foot was still wedged in the frame of the chair and his whole body shook uncontrollably.

"N-no, s-stop...!" Neal gasped. Automatically, he rolled onto his right side and bent his legs. Away from the man who hurt him.

"Oh, Neal! I'm sorry, buddy." His eyes grew wide with guilt.

Frowning, Peter took his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled anxiously through his contact list. He didn't know who to call first. El or the ambulance? He sighed and stroked small soothing circles over the clam and sweaty back of Neal, who apparently couldn't stop to shake.

"Help me...," Neal whispered suddenly in total panic and with tears in his eyes.

Peter noticed the shallow breathing. Every muscle in Neal's body seemed to be under tension. His appearance was so strange and he looked strange, too. What troubled Peter the most, however, was the lifelessness of the usually agile young man. His tense body collapsed like a house of cards. The man was lying sprawled on the furry carpet. From one moment to the next Neal was as limp as a doll.

Peter rolled his friend gently on his back, to see if he still breathed. And luckily he did, but Neal's heartbeat was too fast and that was certainly not good.

"Okay, Neal. Enough is enough. I'll take you to the hospital." With one hand he stroked Neal's cheek and was shocked by the cool skin.

xxx

After a few tests Neal's health problem proved to be a severe inflammation. Acute gastroenteritis, which had rapidly become a serious stomach infection. The first two days in the hospital had been critical. He had suffered from fever and pain seizures alternately. If the administered antibiotics wouldn't be effective, an operation would be inevitable. Neal also had to stay in bed at least one week, before he could return to work. El and Peter would ensure that Neal would get enough rest. Since Mozzie wasn't around and Sara stayed abroad, Peter had no choice but to take him to his home. It didn't surprise him, that he immediately got the okay from his wife over the phone to bring Neal home with him. The two felt responsible for their friend. Between them there was this unique chemistry. Neal Caffrey was like an adoptive son to them.

After Peter had called his wife and informed her that he was on his way home with Neal, Elizabeth had begun to prepare the guest room.

Neal sat next to Peter in the passenger seat and stared absently into space. The color on his pale, gaunt face had changed at every turn to light green. Occasionally the man winced when Peter went over a bump. Peter glanced nervously from time to time over at his passenger and mumbled an apology when Neal groaned because of the unevenness. He sighed with relief when he saw that his friend was dozing lightly. Nevertheless, it was noticed that the sick man was still shaking in his sleep although the temperature was moderate.

"We're almost there, buddy. Do you think you can walk?"

Neal nodded and looked around. He was surprised that they had reached their destination so fast, but then realized that he must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive.

Dressed in a bathrobe, white shirt, dark blue pajama pants, a scarf, thick socks and black slippers, the sick man took the steps up to the house of _his FBI partner and best friend_ Peter.

El was already waiting at the doorstep and waved friendly to them. "Oh you poor thing. How do you feel? Come on in, Neal. Hi Hon. I've already been at the pharmacy for you." She pressed a gentle kiss on Neal's forehead first before she greeted her husband with quick kiss on his cheek.

Neal swayed dangerously al of the sudden and Peter quickly put his arm around the young man for support, just in time before his legs buckled. "Sit down. Carefully."

"Hmm...thank you...," muttered Neal. As soon as he sat on the couch, his body went limp from exhaustion. His sight was alarming, and Peter and El exchanged a worried look.

"Neal. Your bed is ready. I can prepare a hot water bottle for you to help ease your stomach cramps. That is, if you want one, sweetheart?"

Neal nodded slightly.

When Elizabeth went into the kitchen, Peter sat down beside him on the couch. Neal had closed his eyes and it looked like he would fall off the couch any moment. Therefore, Peter gently pushed him back again. "Do you want to lie down to rest?" The agent asked softly.

Neal looked shocked at him. "N-no. I-I'm not tired. It's just... it's so...warm in here," the man whispered in confusion. In addition, his stomach began to rumble. Neal immediately sat upright and looked around, swallowing hard. His gaze went searching across the room. Peter knew what Neal was up to and pulled him off the couch.

Half carrying, half dragging Peter lead the poor man to the sink and helped him to lean down. The bathroom was too far away. Elizabeth took a few steps back, when Neal started to throw up. It didn't take long until his stomach was empty, and he threw up only the water that Peter had offered him in the car.

After the poor man was finished, he fell exhausted to the ground and Peter tightened his grip when he suddenly had to carry the entire weight. "Oh, Neal...," the agent sighed out of pity. With some effort he pulled Neal back up and leaned the feeble man against his chest so he could wrap his arm around Neal's hip.

"Oh my...darling, you need my help?" Elizabeth asked while she gently wiped Neal's mouth with a wet towel.

Peter shook his head and waited until his wife was done with cleaning up Neal. "I think we better should bring him upstairs."

El nodded and let the tap run in order to remove the smell of the vomit from the kitchen.

xxx

After Neal woke up, he noticed pretty quickly that he was in a strange environment. He sighed and stared at the white ceiling and blinked several times against the soft yellow light of the overhead lights. The steady ticking of the clock helped him relax. He listened to the rhythm that brought his nervous mind at rest. For a while he lay motionless while he focused only on the ticking sound. His eyes twinkled and he found it increasingly difficult to keep them open much longer. His body wanted to sleep, but something told him that it was not good. Neal decided to fight the fatigue and tried in vain to remember how he had come here.

"Top drawer, Hon."

Neal startled in his bed and looked confused at the closed door. The voice belonged to Elizabeth.

"Thank you. What would I do without you." That voice was farther away from the door.

Steps. Whispers. Neal scrambled to his feet from the comfortably soft mattress and looked at the shadows under the door.

At the same moment Neal felt the nausea starting again. An oddly uncomfortable pressure in the waist and abdomen began to cause him increasingly pain. He immediately fell back again on the mattress to relieve the pain. Now he remembered. He had been to the doctor. Peter had brought him here afterwards. They had given him something for the pain. He had fallen asleep. With one hand he wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed angrily when he noticed that his hand was shaking. He hated being sick. But apart from that, he found it particularly annoying for Peter and his wife. Under no circumstances he wanted to be a burden.

Then he heard a soft knock at the door. Neal raised his head.

"Neal, are you awake?" Elizabeth said softly before she opened the door cautiously. She was surprised, to find herself staring into two blue orbs. Neal was awake for sure. And he was staring at her. Al little confused and curious at the same time. He looked suspiciously at what she was carrying and tried to sit up a little straighter. In her hands she carried a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water and a hot water bottle.

"Oh, thanks El. But you really shouldn't worry about me," Neal said, but his face spoke volumes, as he squeezed his eyes for a moment. Even if he didn't admit it, he struggled to speak and to sit up. A severe cramp in his belly pressed all the air from his lungs. With tears in his eyes Neal threw both arms around his stomach.

"My goodness!" Hastily El put the tray on the ground while she was trying to reach him as quickly as possible. She pushed the sick man carefully back down and went with a soothing hand through his tousled dark hair. "Listen, Neal. You have to stay calm. I have brought a hot water bottle. And I want you to put it on your stomach until the pain subsides. And then we'll try if we can get some of that soup into you. How does it sound to you?"

Neal's cheeks flushed and that wasn't because of the fever. He was ashamed. Anyway, he wasn't thrilled when she pulled the thick blanket down and carefully put the bottle on his flat belly. First, Neal didn't notice the heat, but groaned beneath the weight of the warm water. But soon he felt the spasms subside. El's hand grabbed his and he felt her put his hand on the bottle.

"Hold it. You can call me if you feel it is enough. I'll be downstairs. Peter went to work," she informed him.

Neal looked at Elizabeth. He knew that he owed her his gratitude. The pain had subsided. "Thanks," he whispered.

Elizabeth passed quietly out of the door, stood there and smiled briefly at him. "Rest now. We still have a long way to go."

xxx

After dinner, Neal was sitting on the couch and watched the current TV program without much interest. Peter and his wife were sitting together at the table, talking quietly, so that Neal couldn't hear them. So far, he had been able to keep the soup down; just like the water he had drunk earlier this afternoon. Apparently, the antibiotics seemed to work.

Neal had promised to eat some soup this evening, and held the plate in front of him in his hands. Peter was happy, but had placed a bucket beside the couch as a precautionary measure.

Peter ate in silence, and poked around in the vegetable, as he suddenly felt a hand on his own.

El looked at him lovingly, and smiled. "You're a good friend for Neal, honey."

Peter put his fork on the table to reach for her hand. "Oh yeah? Why would you say that?"

El shrugged her shoulders, but left her hand on his. "You know why. He trusts you."

Peter stared into the eyes of his wife and felt his cheeks reddening. "Oh, well. Being with the FBI, I am also one of those men, which can be trusted the most. That comes handy." With an oblique smile the agent played with her long, silky brown hair and kissed her.

"He dreamed this afternoon and called your name."

Peter raised an eyebrow and looked back toward the living room, where Neal sat on the couch, looking miserable. "Really? Mmh...What did he say?" He asked his wife.

"He called you his hero."

Peter smiled and leaned back in his chair in surprise.

Neal sighed loudly and put the soup bowl on the table and buried himself deeper into the thick blanket that hung around his shoulders. His head was resting on the back and he was visibly exhausted.

Elizabeth and Peter had heard the sigh and looked around. The young man was almost asleep when his best friend got up, went to the TV and turned off the device. He quickly checked how much of the soup had been eaten by Neal. The small bowl of soup was half empty. Peter interpreted this as a positive sign. He really hoped that Neal felt better. The question now was if the soup would also stay where it belonged.

Later that night, Peter was sitting next to Neal in the living room and watched a football game, on "mute" of course. Suddenly, the former con man jumped from the couch and looked around anxiously.

"Neal? Calm down. It's all right. Are you okay?"

Neal looked around a few times and then looked at the quiet-speaking agent.

"O-okay." The man sighed and rubbed his glassy eyes, now appearing a little calmer. "How long did I sleep?" He asked hoarsely.

"You have slept about two hours, Neal. And guess what? So far, you didn't throw up. You seem to get better, buddy."

Neal nodded; a faint smile appeared on his too pale face.

For a moment there was silence. Peter wanted to tell him how touched he was that Neal had called him a hero in his sleep.

Neal wanted to tell his best friend, how grateful he was for the care Peter and El took of him.

But neither of them spoke their thoughts out loud.

When Peter came to realization that two large blue eyes were staring at him, he began to feel uneasy, reaching for the remote to turn on the sound.

Neal looked back at the screen, where a bunch of men hunted after a shapeless ball. It wasn't important to him which team would win. Still, it was a form of relaxation. In addition, one was always left out if you hadn't seen the game and your colleagues were talking about it.

Fifteen minutes went by unnoticed and when the commercials started, Neal began to grow restless. Peter looked besides him when he heard a distinct wailing. Neal sat up suddenly, pushed his feet on the floor and threw the blanket away. Peter watched him for a moment when he saw that Neal was trying to get up off the couch. "What's going on Neal? Want to go upstairs?" Peter asked alarmed when he saw that the man tried reeling to keep his balance. He got up and walked to the stairs.

Neal shook his head and gestured with his hand. "I must go to the bathroom."

Peter frowned as he thought about it whether it was a good idea to let Neal go upstairs. The man seemed so fragile, and looked quite strange without his usual suits and hats. It was also hard to believe that this guy had taken him years of work to finally bring him behind bars. And secretly he wondered how much work it would cost to take care of Neal tonight.

Neal was already halfway up the stairs when he grabbed the railing with both hands and writhed in pain.

Peter was by his side within a few seconds and lifted him up again. "You evidently want it the hard way, huh? Wait, I'll help you to the door."

Neal nodded gratefully and prepared himself for the last few steps. He almost cried when he reached the top, and tried to get to the bathroom as quick as possible. The door closed before Peter could ask if Neal needed something.

While he waited in the hallway, Elizabeth came up to him. She was wearing her beautiful purple nightgown and Peter couldn't resist glancing at her open-mouthed. But El's eyes were worried, and she looked at her husband questioningly. "Did he go to bed? Have you given him the meds already?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and pointed to the closed bathroom door.

Elizabeth nodded her understanding. She was also aware that it would be awkward for Neal, if he could hear her voice next to the bathroom door when he was on duty. So she went back to bed.

Peter went back downstairs to get the medicine. In the living room he found Satchmo sitting on the couch, where the sick Neal had been sitting just minutes before. Peter looked at the dog for a few seconds while the dog sniffed at the blanket. Peter grinned as the Labrador noticed him and guiltily ducked and then jumped off the couch. Shaking his head, he walked over to Satchmo and patted his head. "Yes, my boy. There's a lot going on tonight, huh?" He rounded the table, grabbed the soup bowl and held the half-full plate out to the dog. Immediately the dog started to empty the plate. Again Peter grinned. "And don't you dare to tell this to my wife." Satchmo seemed satisfied and went upstairs. He had his resting place with Peter and El in the bedroom. Originally, it had never been planned to allow the dog to sleep in the bedroom. But El had protested successfully, because Peter often came back home late at night and she just felt saver with the dog in the room. However, Peter couldn't give any counter-arguments on this point and had been outnumbered.

When Peter came back with the blanket over his arm as well with a bottle of water and the medicine, he saw the bathroom door open slowly. Peter immediately saw the gray-white face and the sweat on Neal's forehead.

He leaned against the door frame and clung to it while he looked around for help.

Without hesitation, Peter quickened his steps. "Neal! You don't look good, pal." He dropped the blanket and put the pills and the bottle to the ground before he took care of Neal.

Neal shook his head confused and let himself drop into Peter's arms. His forehead was resting on Peter's shoulder, and he could feel the heat emanating from Neal. "I-I was looking for Kate. You ... she is not here, Peter. I've looked everywhere."

Peter frowned and looked at his friend, who suddenly wanted to squirm from his grasp.

Two large dark eyes looked at him angrily. "She was here. Right? O-or. .. or not...I can't remember." Neal looked back to the bathroom and tried to rub his eyes with one hand and pushed Peter's arm roughly backwards.

Peter tightened his grip and looked earnestly at Neal. "Hey, buddy. You are confused. Don't worry. It's not pleasant. But I won't tell anyone."

Neal looked at him quizzically and tripped over his own legs, while his sense of balance suspended again. The poor guy was shaking badly when he was struck with a new attack of fever. His weak body had great trouble to fight the disease. Finally, Neal shook his head and slumped exhausted into Peter's strong arms. But Peter wasn't surprised at all because he had been warned by the doctor in this regard already.

He decided to bring Neal to bed and get him to a thinner blanket. Neal was dripping with sweat and his breathing was rapid and shallow. Peter prepared the medicine, by grinding the pills between two spoons and then adding a drop of syrup on it.

"So...Neal, open your mouth." Neal sat up and leaned against the headboard as he watched him upset. Peter knew that this situation stemmed from the fever and Neal didn't recognize him. Fortunately, Neal did dutifully what he was asked for and swallowed the sweet syrup without arguing.

"Peter...stay," Neal sobbed and broke down when he saw that Peter took a step backwards. The agent was bewildered by those pleading eyes. Conman or not. He was good. Peter had no other choice than to put himself on the foot of the bed. He saw the fear in the eyes of the young man and he felt bad when he had to see him like that. Neal reminded him of a young child who was looking for protection.

"Neal, damn it. You scare me with that look." Neal leaned forward and tried to grab him. His gaze went restlessly back and forth.

"Did you hear that?" Said Neal and his voice sounded rushed. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were almost black with dilated pupils. Peter sighed.

"I've heard nothing, Neal." Neal shook his head in disapproval, and suddenly sat up straight in bed, listening.

"Burglars. There are burglars in the house. I hear them talk. Call the others. We lock them in." After he had said this, Neal struck his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to get up, but bumped into Peter, who grabbed his arms and pushed him gently but firmly back down. Neal looked at him quizzically, and made another attempt to get out of bed.

"No," Peter said sternly and Neal sighed in frustration.

"Shut up, Peter. Let me do my job. I know what I'm doing." Again there was a brief scuffle, as Neal tried to get out of bed. But Peter stayed firm, and held Neal in a tight grip.

"And now you'er gonna take a nice deep breathe; in and out, okay? There aren't any burglars in the house. Believe me. The fever is playing tricks on you."

"Honey, what's going on here?"

Elizabeth came in and saw that her husband pressed the sick Neal with his arms against the mattress. She was horrified when she saw the strange look on Neal's silk face. As if he wasn't sane.

"Attack of fever. I found him in the doorway of the bathroom. But don't worry. I'm in control, Hon Hopefully he comes to his senses again soon."

"But it doesn't work this way Peter. You're just making him angrier. Let him go. And give him some space." Peter frowned, but responded to the request of his wife. He was reluctant let Neal go who tried to get up again immediately.

"El! You're here. Finally." Neal's tension eased and his shoulders slumped down as he sighed with relief. Elizabeth smiled and wanted to say something. But she was interrupted.

"El. W-we should talk about the installed security software. It doesn't work properly. There are burglars in the house and the alarm went off, but Peter doesn't hear it." Neal's bewildered gaze went repeatedly to El and then back to Peter. Suddenly he stopped and blinked several times.

"I'll go get the thermometer, Hon," murmured Elizabeth and rushed to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Peter readied himself to stretch out his hand to catch Neal should he lose his balance. He began to waver too dangerous. "I'm sorry... I-I m... so ..." Neal came slowly back to his senses.

Peter was relieved that Neal had calmed down and gave him a gentle slap. "It's all right, Caffrey. It's not your fault."

* * *

**TBC...**

**and review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

Peter sat on the bed next to Neal when Elizabeth entered the room. The sick man was lying half on him and Neal's left cheek was resting on Peter's chest and Peter himself was about to fall asleep any minute.

Elizabeth was deeply touched by this sight. Peter shrugged his shoulders with a smile and looked at the sleeping Neal, glad that he had found something to calm his protégé. El smiled at her husband, because it really seemed to work.

When he tried to turn his head, Neal rubbed his cheek against Peter's shoulder. Automatically he followed the warmth that emanated from Peter and put his right arm around him, almost as if Neal wanted to stop his friend from walking away.

Peter felt that the fever didn't diminish and that made him nervous. El entered the thermometer gently into Neal's ear, and waited until the machine beeped. Neal didn't notice anything and slept soundly. While she waited for the result, El showed a troubled face. If the value would be between 104 and 106 ° F, they would have a real problem. After the machine beeped, she looked expectantly at the display.

"Mmm... 103.8. That's not good, Hon," she said glumly. She ran her hand through Neal's dark hair. Peter sighed concerned pressed the sleeping man unknowingly closer to him. Neither spoke a word, while both followed closely the irregular breathing of their protégé.

Elizabeth sighed and bit her lip anxiously as she stared fixedly at the screen.

"What do you think we should do?" Peter said quietly in order not to wake Neal.

"We have to try to cool him. When I got sick as a child, my mother always placed a wet towel on me. Lukewarm compresses. Not to cold. Otherwise there is a risk that the temperature difference is too high and there may be a state of shock ." Peter nodded and tried to free himself from the grip of the sick man. But whenever he moved, Neal began to wail and clutched more tightly.

"Oh, c'mon, buddy," Peter sighed surprised.

"Honey, forget it. Just stay with him. I'll get the things by myself." The couple looked at each other silently and suddenly there was a noticeable loving energy in the room. And for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Suddenly, there were no more worries. No panic. Only warmth and love for each other.

Neal began unexpectedly to talk in his sleep.

His voice brought Elizabeth and Peter back to reality.

_"Don't go, Peter. You're my best friend. I trust...you. You are ... my ... hero."_

Overwhelmed by these words, Peter looked at the pale face of the sleeping man. El chuckled softly and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder."It appears that you do have your hands full with this threatening guy, Special Agent Peter Burke." She was probably the only person who ever saw him blush. He looked at her for a moment and smiled as he carefully stroked the hot forehead from Neal.

"Thank you, El. You're the best."

"You're welcome, Honey . Continue to try to calm him."

xxx

In the middle of the night Neal woke up from a strange noise and startled. A few seconds later he identified the sound as snoring. At first he thought he was back in prison. His cell mate had kept him awake for hours during the night. In order to stay sane, he had always imagined that he was on a house boat on the sea back then. He had imagined waves. An island. Far away from his cell. While he was thinking about that, Neal noted that he wasn't in prison at all. But in a bed. With someone else. With his hand he groped blindly around and felt a man's body lying at his side. Startled, he blinked several times and saw with whom he shared a bed. It was certainly not his cellmate.

"Peter?" Surprised Neal tried to remember what had happened last night. He could only remember that he had gone to the bathroom and then sat almost unconscious on the stairs. Oh _God! Perhaps he fell unconscious and Peter had put him to bed._ But that didn't explain why his face was on Peter's chest.

Neal moved back slowly and stepped cautiously a few steps away from the bed. He almost stumbled over something soft looked at his bare feet. There was a towel. Without paying attention to where he went, he took another step back and looked up, startled, as he knocked over a bowl of cold water. Due to the shock, he hit his back against the wall and just gasped. He was dizzy, and for a few seconds he stayed on one spot. Immediately after that Peter stopped snoring and got up, still a bit sleepy.

"P-Peter?" Neal asked. But the man wasn't fully awake by now. Neal was suddenly aware that his whole body trembled with cold. Automatically, he rubbed his upper arms and realized that he was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. Even his electronic anklet was gone. Questioning, he looked around and saw his clothes folded neatly on the wooden footlocker near the door. Neal immediately relaxed. This meant that his clothing was removed carefully. And that he hadn't undressed himself during an attack of fever. Not that he had ever been so drunk to strip for an FBI agent, or even worse for the wife of those FBI agent. But okay. As Conman he had to be careful because a judge would take every opportunity to condemn him. Maybe he got high fever and El and Peter had decided to take care of him. And that Peter would stay that night with him to take care of him. That was the best explanation to him so far.

_And when he should be thankful for this, all he could do was to spill the water from the bowl on the beautiful carpet. That was just stupid._

His shoulders relaxed and he let out a sigh.

"Neal? Hey, look at you. You're back. Are you okay?" Peter asked, who was awake and got up, too. Neal suddenly felt uneasy and went to the cupboard where his pajamas were. He sighed when Peter turned on the bedside lamp.

"Relax, Caffrey. El and I had to take off your clothes since you were soaking wet from the also had to cool you down. Take it easy. We stopped at the boxers." Peter used his hand to make a rotating motion. Neal felt his cheeks go red when he remembered that El had seen him like that.

"It was obviously not a pleasant sight to me like this. You must have been very worried."

Peter rubbed the place on chest where Caffrey's head had practically laid down all night. He grimaced his face as he moved his shoulders.

"What can I say, Neal. You were sick. You've fantasized. You were scared and you needed someone to calm you," Peter answered and sounded more serious than he really wanted. Neal couldn't believe it. He must have been pretty sick due to the fever, to actually get Peter crawl next to him on the same bed. He put on his white shirt and tried to tame his disheveled hair a bit. Ashamed for what he had done last night, although he couldn't remember details, he wanted to return the favor. Although he hadn't a clue how to do it.

"I'm feeling better now. So if you want you can go back in your own bed." Neal smiled at him widely. And Peter looked at him quizzically for a few seconds.

Then the agent sighed and placed his palm on Neal's forehead. He probably had to convince himself first.

"Hmm...no fever. That's good. How's your stomach?"

Neal nodded. "Good, I guess."

"Are you sure?"

Neal shrugged and automatically rubbed his belly where it had hurt the most, just hours before. It felt good. Even perfect. For now at least. But that weak feeling in the knees was still there. And he felt exhausted after all the hours he had spent with pain.

Peter smiled as he heard the good news. He gave Neal a pat on the shoulder and nodded at him as he stood up.

"Glad to hear that. This means that the antibiotics started to work. Try to get some sleep. You need it. There's water on the bedside table and some extra blankets are provided in the closet." Peter took the white towel and bowl of water and carried both of them out of the room. Neal watched him and wondered. He wanted to thank Peter for his help last night. That he had laid down next to him and helped him to calm down, wasn't something that Neal took for granted. That was pretty much for a man like Peter. Mozzie hadn't done such a thing anyway.

"Peter, wait. I...uh...thank you. For...you know...for everything," Neal muttered. Peter remained in the doorway and grinned.

"That's what heroes are for." He nodded towards Neal and took a few steps out of the room. It made Neal frown. Ashamed, he grabbed his forehead with one hand.

"Oh God. What did I tell you, when I run a fever?" He asked the man, who apparently enjoyed the moment. The only thing that Peter said then was, "Sleep well, Neal."

"Yeah. You, too," muttered Neal and felt humiliated.

xxx

It was half past ten in the morning when someone knocked on the door gently. Neal blinked and couldn't believe it was so late already. He felt exhausted.

"Neal? Are you awake? It is time for your meds, sweetie," came the warm voice of Elizabeth. Neal immediately pushed himself up in the bed and tried to tame his tousled hair.

"Yes. I'm awake, El, come clean. It's your house anyway." With a giggle she slowly opened the door. In her hand she carried the bag containing the medicine and a glass of water.

"Peter told me that you feel much better. This is good news. No stomach pain?" Neal straightened his white shirt to look neat.

"What can I say; I seem to heal fast." With a smile he took two pills and put them in his mouth. Then he emptied the glass of water with a few sips. His gaze turned to El.

"You are quite thirsty, so it seems. Want more?" Neal just stared at her and nodded absently. "Where's Peter?" He asked. Elizabeth looked at him quizzically.

"He walks the dog, why do you ask?" Neal shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know why he had asked. But suddenly he remembered something, and he felt unwell. "Is it Sunday today?" He asked and El frowned.

"Yes it is. Why, what's going on?"

"Nothing. But it is Sunday. And I'm here. I am a burden to you. Sunday is the only day on which you can be together. And I'm just in the way. I feel good now and I don't need be here much longer ," Neal said sincerely and hadn't been so honest for years. And it didn't go unnoticed. Because El was touched. Then a smile appeared on his face and El knew exactly what was going on inside his head. He wanted to go home, so that she and Peter would be undisturbed. It was certainly bad for the young man, to feel like a burden. But no matter what he thought, they had no problem with him staying with them. With a sigh, she sat down next to Neal on the bed and placed a hand on his knee.

"Darling, it's okay. Peter and I have nothing against the fact that you're here. And you aren't leave this house until you have some color in your face again, Neal. You're white as a sheet." She patted his leg in order to emphasize their significance. Neal looked at her from the side.

"Don't think for a second that you're a burden to us, Neal. You are Peter's best friend after all."

Neal looked at Elizabeth and suddenly it came to his mind that he probably must have said something like that last night during an attack of fever. And he smiled back.  
"Okay. I give up. But please, El...can I go to my apartment to get some clothes at least? This is rather inconvenient." Sighing, he fiddled with his shirt.

"You know what? How about if you go in the bathroom and make yourself fresh, and then come down? Then we ask Peter if he can drive you, okay?" Neal smiled contentedly.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed and got up. Unsure, he moved forward a few steps, when Elizabeth turned to him again. "One more thing, my dear." She fell silent for a moment at the sight of the tottering man. But before she could go to him, the former con man had braced himself against the wall and looked at her smiling as if nothing had happened. She decided not to dwell on it.

"I want to make sure that you're strong enough for the trip. So you go have breakfast first, understood?" At the word breakfast Neal withdrew his mouth in a disapproving matter. Too late he realized that he couldn't fool her with his grin. El frowned.

"I saw that. But okay, go take a shower first and then we'll talk later."

Neal couldn't say much and looked after her when she went outside and picked up a laundry basket from the floor and went into her own bedroom.

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured softly, and was amazed at what he had just said. She was good.

xxx

A freshly showered Neal slowly went downstairs, soon after that. Taking a shower had tired him. When he had put on his socks and bowed down, his stomach wasn't pleased with that. Although he didn't feel sick, he feared that his stomach infection wasn't over yet. The inside of his belly seemed to bubble. He could only hope that he wouldn't have to go to the bathroom once he was finally down.

When he finally reached the last step, he was huffing and puffing from exhaustion and looking for a chair. Unfortunately, the couch stood on the opposite side of the room. Startled, he almost jumped when El suddenly appeared out of nowhere and offered him a helping hand.

"Come on Neal. I'm sorry that I come to you just now, but I had things to do. Sit down first, then we'll see. But, oh dear, I don't think that you are in no condition to leave the house. The doctor told you to stay in bed the whole week and now you want to drive around in a car? What if you get worse and you need to have surgery, because I haven't followed the instructions? I would never forgive myself. You know that, right?" Neal looked at El by surprise and couldn't argue.

''Come on. I will help you to the couch."

Neal nodded, but was too tired and out of breath to respond further. And unable to change her mind. When he thought about the stories that Peter had told him, it appeared to him that it wasn't a good idea to argue with this woman.

After Neal had sat down, the door opened. Satchmo rushed in, followed by Peter, who was bathed in sweat. Before he went to the living room, Peter stretched his back and took a deep breath.

"You two have been gone long, Honey. Did you have a good time?" Elizabeth said as she walked toward her husband, to greet him with a kiss. Peter was still panting from the exertion as he took off the leash and laid it on the kitchen table.

"Yup," Peter said with a grin. "The sun is shining, everyone is happy. And the park has never been so quiet."

Neal coughed once, while he was sitting on the couch, then distracted rubbed his tired forehead. Peter looked over his shoulder into the living room and observed Neal. With a serious expression, he turned to his wife.

"How is he?" Peter asked quietly.

"A little better, but...I doubt that he will stay in bed any longer. He starts to pout and try to entangle me in discussions. I think you need to collect some clean clothes for him." Elizabeth smiled at Peter, while he rolled with his eyes.

"The guy is incredible," Peter sighed, feigning anger. When Peter was about to go into the living room, El put a hand on his arm and suggested to take a shower first.

Peter walked past the couch, but Neal hadn't noticed him. Only when the agent went up the stairs, Neal both looked at him shocked and amazed. Peter frowned.

"Hey, Neal. Are you okay?"

"Hey...Peter. I-I haven't heard you. C-can...can go with you?" The man said with a strange look in his eyes. Puzzled Peter stopped halfway up and peered down.

"Where do you want to go?" He looked intently at him and knew that he had seen this strange expression on Neal's face yesterday evening. The young man had fever again. Neal looked up from his spot on the couch. His eyes were big and his lower lip quivered as he tried hard to remember where he wanted to go.

"I-I don't remember," Neal muttered and suddenly looked very fragile. With a sigh, Peter shook his head and went back down again. His wife came out of the kitchen because she had heard the conversation as well.

"Honey, go shower. I'll stay with Neal." Peter saw that his gray shirt was sweaty. He had almost forgotten that his wife hated it when he sat on the couch being covered with sweat. A little jealously, he watched Elizabeth, who felt the wet shiny forehead of the man and put a gentle kiss on it.

"You're burning with fever, Neal. Do you want to lie down?" Neal shook his head and leaned against Elizabeth, while he was trying to say what he wanted. Caffrey gave up and shook his head angrily.

"I'll hurry with the shower and bring a blanket and the thermometer," Peter suggested.

With slouched shoulders, he walked up the stairs toward the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

xxx

"El?" Neal said and seemed suddenly tense. He slid nervously on the couch, while his face grew pale. His lips were pressed together into a little thin line and his eyes were wide in fear. Then he began to swallow slowly.

"Are you going to throw up?" Elizabeth wanted to know and sounded scared. She wasn't able to pull the man to the sink, just as her husband had done it before. Neal seemed to be able to read her mind and shook his head. Hastily, he pointed to the bucket that stood near the couch.

"Oh, of course. The bucket. I'm sorry, sweetie," she said, holding the bucket near the greenish face of Neal. He closed his eyes and gasped as he held the bucket with both hands. He pushed himself off the side of Elizabeth and choked aloud. His shoulders shivered after he was done. Elizabeth rubbed his back with her hand tracing small circles and tried to calm him down.

"It's okay, sweetie."

Neal himself seemed to recover slowly and leaned back weakly against the back of the couch. His hands still clutched the bucket, but he made no more attempt to throw up again. Elizabeth raised her nose in disapproval, as she smelled the sour taste and tried to pull the bucket out of Neal's firm grip. She won, of course. And as she came back with the empty bucket into the living room, she just saw in time that Neal had his arms wrapped around the waist in pain. Obviously he was having strong spasms and El suffered with him. She hoped that the spasms would be over quickly and that Peter would come back again with the thermometer. Like the last time Peter had be able to help Neal.

"Is it your stomach again?" she asked as she sat beside him and wanted to keep him upright. Neal blinked several times before he shook his head.

"Fu-further d-down...," Neal said through gritted teeth. Elizabeth opened her mouth.

"The gut?" Neal nodded. It was impossible for him to hide the severe pain from Elizabeth.

He had go upstairs. Now.

"El...I have to...," his voice trailed off and he was gasping for air. Elizabeth nodded and was worried.

"Of course. Come here." She helped him up and grabbed his waist. Neal almost fell over when had another seizure and leaned forward. With small, shuffling steps, he walked toward the stairs and grabbed the railing. His face was pale and Elizabeth felt his whole body shaking.

"Come on, sweetheart. We are almost there. Let me help you." They almost had arrived at the top and Elizabeth could feel the panic rising in her, when she heard the water running in the bathroom.

Peter was still in the shower.

"El...," Neal whimpered slightly and looked nervous. He looked truly pitiful.

"Peter! Open the door. Neal isn't feeling well." She could already see Neal's shame in her presence. Neal was a decent guy and he would feel more comfortable in any case, if Peter would take care of him.

"Peter," Neal moaned and knocked politely on the door in spite of his predicament.

"What the hell," Peter murmured softly, when someone knocked at the door.

The shower was turned off and El heard her husband being busy inside. Without hesitation, she opened the door. Steam clouds drifted through the room. She could smell the sweet scent of the shampoo. Peter looked straight into the face of the moaning man in front of him.

"Hey," Peter exclaimed in surprise. He looked questioningly at his wife as El gave him a serious look. Everything was happening so fast that he stood stunned for a few seconds without moving.

Elizabeth took her husband by the hand and led him into the bedroom. The poor man finally earned a bit of privacy.

"Poor Neal," Peter whispered. Elizabeth shook her head and ran a hand through her long hair.

"I can't imagine how humiliating it is for him. Being this vulnerable and helpless. We have to help him. The guest room is the nearest to the bathroom." Peter was standing next to his wife and looked around.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked.

"Do you think I'm going out on the street like this Hon? I'll put on something and then go to the pharmacy and get something to... you know what I mean. On the way home I buy a pack of crackers and bananas. That usually should help, right? "Elizabeth smiled at her husband. She was surprised once again how caring he could be.

"Now I understand why Neal speaks so fond of you and trusts you. You really are a superhero." Peter kept his towel that was tied around his waist and grinned back.

"That's what happens if you chase someone for years. He was practically still a child when I put him behind bars. I don't know why, but sometimes I think Neal is like a ...," Peter didn't say the last word aloud.

"Honey. I know. I know for a long time how you feel about him. Why else do you think I insisted to bring him here when I heard he was sick? He is like a son to you. And for me too. You had tried for so long to track him down. I was there when you fought with yourself when it came to pass Neal in your custody. And now you're trying everything to help him. This basis of trust has long been identifiable for me. You give everything for him. Like a father would do for his son." They looked into each other's eyes. Peter let go of the towel and wrapped it around his wife so he could kiss her. Everything that was around them, seemed to fade. Everything was perfect.

Until this perfect moment was disrupted by a call for help from Neal.

* * *

**AN: this story soundted soo much better when it is in English. Right? Thanks to Melles! Please let me now what you think. Reviews are food for my brain.**

**TBC**

**X**

**Josi**


	3. Chapter 3

Neal blinked as he looked at his reflection. The slowly flowing water brought him back to reality. And he stared down at his hands. He did not know how long he had been standing at the sink. But his hands had been clean for a long time. After he had recovered from his blackout, he turned off the tap again and saw that his fingers were trembling.

With a shrug he decided to go on and needed a towel to dry his hands. When he stood up, the room began to spin. Neal had to grab the edge of the basin to hold him steady in order to avoid falling down.

With eyes closed, Neal took a few deep breaths and tried to regroup. He loosened his grip and after a few moments, his sense of balance was back. Strange thoughts swirled in his head. It seemed as if he lost a piece of himself with each breath. With his hand he touched the mirror and wiped away the steam. Two large red rimmed eyes were visible. Neal was frightened by his own reflection and touched his pale face with his fingers.

"What is wrong with you, Neal," he mused aloud. His face showed worry. Thinking became difficult. His head was pounding like crazy. He felt a new fever attack coming.

"Oh great," he muttered. With a frown he turned away from his reflection and was looking around. It scared him, because he simply couldn't remember where he was and why he was there. He looked at his hands. He washed his hands in Peter's bathroom. That was all he knew. A shiver ran down his spine. Sighing, he swiped the sweat from his brow and tried to find the way out of the bathroom. Because he didn't want to faint on the floor while the door was still locked. The fever was back and because of that he was confused. His clouded mind worked hard. Neal went to the door and turned the door knob. But when he opened the door, a ticking sound caught his attention. Sighing, he turned and listened intently.

"Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick." The noise was constant. Sometimes louder, sometimes quieter. But the pattern was always the same. Frowning Neal went back to the sink and realized where the noise came from. The shock caused the veil to disappear from his sight. Terrified, he looked around. This doesn't bode well!

It was probably a bomb. There wasn't another possibility. A ticking time bomb! He saw it now! The bomb was under the pool, hidden under a pile of clothes. Not far away, where Neal had previously washed his hands! A bomb! Neal went back trembling. Away from the sink.

He pressed his back against the wall as flat as possible. He wanted out. Neal didn't understand _why the hell Peter had a bomb in the bathroom! Had Peter Burke set himself the target of an obscure group?_ It could be! Peter Burke had brought many people behind bars, and they probably weren't very happy about it. "Oh Peter, what have you done ...?"

He was dizzy with panic. What would happen if he just went? Peter, El, and he were in the house. And Satchmo! "No, no, no!" Neal gasped and sounded confused. Something did not fit into the picture. That was not real, there was no a bomb. It couldn't be. There was no bomb. No. "Oh, no. Oh, no. No. No. No. There's nothing here," he insisted.

Neal didn't feel good. His knees began to tremble. Flashbacks of Kate's horrible death came to his mind. It had happened only recently. Everything was so fresh. "Please. Tell me I'm dreaming, Kate. I-I do not know...," Neal stopped. His eyes got bigger and bigger.

Had this bomb to do with the murder of Kate?

"Forget it, Neal. Ensure that the bomb doesn't go off." He looked around. First, he needed to get the others safely out of the house and then...then...

He didn't continue. He was trapped in his own dream. A strange emptiness embraced him and he didn't know what to do.

Panting Neal grabbed his head. He still felt dizzy and was heavily sweating. He blinked several times to get a better view. His heart was pounding like crazy and Neal struggled to stay upright.

His hands began to tremble and he felt a strange heaviness at his stomach. He felt hot.

"B-bomb," the man said absently and felt his legs gave in. He leaned against the still wet wall of the bathroom tiles. "Concentrate...," Neal stammered quietly. After he had shaken his head, his mind became a little clearer.

Neal walked slowly a few inches closer to the door and looked around. The door was the only exit since the room had no windows. There was a ventilation grille. But unless you're a cat, no one fitted through it. There was no other way out. The only way to escape from extreme danger was the door.

"Go, go," he encouraged himself, but he was so nervous that even his voice began to shake. His heart beat faster when he heard the loud ticking of the clock. "W-what do I do?" A tinge of panic gripped him and he felt the urge to grab something. He opted for the shower curtain. But he slipped on the slick tile floor, and he let out a scream. His hands went all out on the shower curtain, which meant that he tore the curtain rod from the wall. The rod hit his shoulder and neck, while the wet curtain fell on him. Desperately he tried to free himself. The feeling of being trapped terrified him. He also was injured in the fall, because his shoulder hurt with every movement. His head was empty. His elbow was tingling violently and Neal tried automatically to get free. He was so tangled in the curtain that he breathed and wheezed in discomfort. Over and over again he heard the ticking. It didn't stop. But it sounded different. The ticking sounded like dripping. It was the water that dripped from the faucet into the sink. There was not a bomb! He listened again, and blinked. It was crazy! He was paralyzed with fear! He needed someone to help him. And he could only think of one name.

"Peter!"

His body began to tremble. Neal tried to move. But he couldn't. Exhausted by his paralyzing fear he wasn't able to do something. He didn't know what to do. He knew only one thing - he was still caught in the shower curtain and lay on the slippery floor.

"Peter...please," he whimpered softly. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he stared at the white tiles, which got darker and darker. Even the drop of tap water seemed to vanish bit by bit.

"P-peter..."

xxx

"What was that?" Elizabeth asked startled when she heard a scream. Peter pressed his lips together and looked anxiously toward the bathroom.

"That was Neal." Neither of them spoke. Peter and his wife rushed to the bathroom. It was fortunate that the door was unlocked and Peter stormed in.

"W-What the hell?" The Agent stammered at the sight of a trembling heap which he could discern as their new shower curtain. Elizabeth, who had arrived shortly after her husband peered over his shoulder and shocked, held a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, honey. Are you okay?"

"Neal", Peter asked worried. With one hand he grabbed the bundle and shook it gently. He could hear a whining noise and suddenly a hand fell on the tile floor. The rest of the body was still under the shower curtain and Peter decided to free the young man quickly. But he paused as he took the hand into his own. Peter immediately sensed that it was hot and damp with sweat.

"I'm with you, buddy. Calm down."

"Oh God. I just hope the bard hadn't hit him. It is quite heavy." Elizabeth sat down beside her husband and helped him. Within seconds Neal was freed from the curtain. They were silent when they saw his face. Neal looked really bad. Peter shook his head and broke the silence with a deep sigh.

"He is unconscious, El."

They moved Neal in such a way that the head of the unconscious man rested in Elizabeth's womb.

"He literally glows, Peter." Peter shook his head as a state of shock. With two fingers he pressed against Neal's carotid artery to see if his heart was still beating. Dismayed, he drew back his hand when he noticed that the pulse was too fast.

"He is still in shock, we need to cool him down, El. Come on, help me lift him. We need to get him into the shower." Peter dragged Neal cautiously towards him. Elizabeth stood up and hooked an arm under the armpit of Neal, just like her husband had done and together they dragged him through the bathroom. They leaned him gently against the wall, and Peter turned on the faucet. First, hot water came out of the shower head. The water sprinkled Neal's pale face. Elizabeth couldn'tt let go of him and sat down beside the unconscious man to the ground. Peter remained at the tap and let the water get colder.

After a few minutes Neal's skin color had changed from pale to blue, and Elizabeth began to shiver. She was soaked too, but at that moment she did not care.

The whole process had lasted about 10 minutes, and Peter thought that it was enough. He turned off the water and took off a few steps so he could get a bathrobe for El. She took it gratefully and quickly slipped inside. Neal was still unconscious and Peter was very nervous about that.

"We must get him into bed, I think that would be better," sighed Peter. He sat down again in front of the young man and felt his pulse. It had changed back to normal.

"Okay. But honey, first we must strip him from the wet clothing. I'll get one of your pajamas out of the closet." Elizabeth leaned over and gently brushed Neal's wet hair from his face. He looked so beautiful. And now he sat leaning against the wall, his head was tilted to the side. He looked like an angel.

"I really hope that you feel better soon, Neal," she whispered tenderly.

xxx

Elizabeth was about to clean the bathroom when Peter managed to dress the young man with one of his flannel pajamas. The pajama was too big, but the color blue suited him. Peter got one of the pajamas Elizabeth's mother gave him and whenever he wore it, he had to think of his mother-in-law. But still he couldn't discard it. It was, after all, the gift of El's mother.

Neal was still unconscious when Peter put a chair beside the bed and sat down. Concerned he stared at the man. He saw Neal's white dry and chapped lips and the dark rings under his closed eyes. The well-known charm Caffrey began to fade. His friend was sick. Peter's eyes wandered to the slowly rising and falling chest. Occasionally, Neal stirred in his sleep. And Peter didn't know if he would pull through. The constant change of Neal's body temperature troubled him most. So Peter had put a thin blanket over him so that he wouldn't get too hot. It was already warm enough in this room, thanks to his wife, who had set the thermostat higher because of the cold shower.

The door opened quietly. Peter looked surprised when he could see a black nose peeking through the door. It was Satchmo. The friendly dog approached him, and sat down next to the bed. Peter put his arm around him.

"Yeah, come here. Our guest is sick, pal. And we are very concerned about him."

He let his mind wander. Unconsciously, he patted the dog. He thought back to the night that Neal had been sitting at table with them. He hadn't realized how serious ill Neal already had been at that time. But his wife had a kind of sixth sense for these things. She had also informed him about her suspicion, after Neal had left. Why hadn't Neal said anything at all? He had tried to deceive him and his wife. Peter could slap himself for not recognizing the signals. He was an agent! He must have seen something like that! The young man didn't feel well that evening. And he had just let him go. Peter shook his head, hoping that Neal would be better by tomorrow. Otherwise he had to go back to the hospital and probably would have to have surgery. Right now it seemed that Neal's health went from bad to worse.

The dog jumped up and whined. Peter immediately understood what Satchmo wanted to say. Neal was waking up. Relieved Peter let out a sigh and reached with one hand after Neal, as the young man slowly opened his eyes with a quiet moan.

"Hey, Neal," Peter said quietly trying to not scare the man.

Neal stared a long time without blinking at the ceiling and licked his chapped lips. Then he looked down to see Peter. He was still very weak and sleepy. But he was able to smile.

"Peter...," he whispered hoarsely. Again he licked his lips and his smile disappeared. Peter looked at him anxiously.

"What's up? Do you like to drink a bit?" Neal did not answer.

The young man raised his head from the pillow and looked around, obviously dazed. He relaxed when he recognized where he was. Satchmo wagged his tail happily, as Neal looked at him for a moment.

Then he let his head fall back on the pillow. There was a pause.

"Do you know what has happened in the bathroom? Did you fell?" Peter asked. He wanted to hear him speak. Neal had been silent for too long.

Neal sighed.

"I-it was a bomb...," Neal sighed again and looked apologetically at the agent. Peter nodded. He couldn't conceal that he had a perplexed expression. But he had decided not to ask any further questions. The sick man needed to rest now.

Neal cleared his throat and licked his lips again.

"C-can... I have some water, please?" He asked quietly.

"Of course."

Peter stood up smiling from his chair and gave the man a pat on the shoulder. Then he left the room along with Satchmo.

* * *

**AN: Wow! Already 1000x readers:O So it must be a good story then:) Neal acting a lot like when I had a fever when I was a child. But... Only he can do it with na angel face, ofcourse. Anyway. Thanks for the reviews. And... give me some more!**

**TBC**

**and have a nice day!**

**X**

**Josi**


	4. Chapter 4

On the corridor Peter saw his wife. She looked tired and very worried. He had rarely seen her in such way and Peter stood by her side. Unnoticed by them Satchmo went past them and headed down stairs.

"Peter. I-I don't think I can watch this much longer," she said finally. Peter nodded and put his hands on her shoulders. He continued to look at her sternly.

"I mean, Neal is in good hands with us, Peter. But the poor guy has more than a normal gastro-intestinal flu. It takes more than a bowl of chicken soup and a pad on the shoulder." Peter nodded again. On his face was a gloomy frown. Comforting he went a little closer to his wife and hugged her tenderly. Yet the doubts still remained.

"We could bring him back to the hospital. But...I don't know if Neal would like that." Peter just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. El looked questioningly at her husband and waited for a response. But it didn't come immediately. It was clear that the FBI agent was in deep thoughts right now. His eyes had a glazed expression, as he remembered the moment where he had brought Neal to the hospital for the first time.

xxx

_From the moment on when the Taurus came to a stop in the parking lot near the entrance of the Emergency Room, Neal suddenly began to tremble violently. On the way there he had sunk into a deep sleep from exhaustion. This was also the reason why Peter was so startled by the sudden change in Neal's behavior. Neal began to shake as he opened his eyes and saw where they were. Peter's heart skipped a beat, as the sick man turned to him and anxiously looked at him. The veins at his throat started to swell visibly. His hands were clenched together in great tension._

_Those eyes._

_That glance._

_"Neal. What's up buddy? Are you in pain?" As soon as he had asked this question, Neal began to hyperventilate. At least he thought so. Neal was breathing so fast, that he didn't get enough air to breathe and Peter grabbed him quickly by the shoulder while he looked at him somewhat shocked. Unconsciously, he strengthened his grip as Neal just shook his head. Although Neal said not a word, Peter knew instantly what was going on. Neal was afraid of the hospital._

_"Neal! Calm down, you're scaring me, pal. I-I think know what bothers you, but listen, you're sick and I don't know what else to do!" He shook him a little back and forth; Neal's blue eyes were half closed caused by his weakness. Neal was still scared and shocked and held his breath. But he was quiet. And Peter thought hard to find a solution. He waited a moment._

_"Neal. Have you calmed down? Can you tell me what's going on?" Neal breathed a little slower now, but his hand was on his belly, his fingers dug into his clothes, and his feet stomped against the mat. At the same time Neal began to whine, while he was shaken by cramps._

_His stomach. That was the source of the stabbing pain Neal was suffering from. Peter kind of knew that already. Neal had let him know that earlier in his apartment as he cringed once Peter had touched him in that area. Now Peter was certain of it, at least. _

_Peter sighed deeply._

_"Listen, buddy. If we don't go to the hospital soon, you will faint from pain. Like you did before, remember? And this time there is no excuse. You can't escape from this. You have to go!" Neal had closed his eyes while he listened to Peter, but when Peter's voice took on a decisive tone, he opened them again. His pale face was slightly flushed with fever. His lips trembled as he tried to speak. His eyes were moist with pain._

_"I-I cannot..." His voice sounded distressed and anxious. He sounded like a young child, who was separated from his mother on the first day of school. Peter was shocked._

_He didn't know what to do with him. Neal's eyes were so big and so full of fear, that Peter was perplexed for a moment._

_That man in front of him wasn't Neal Caffrey, the master forger. The sick man who sat beside him, was full of fear and longing for safety and security. So, Peter opened his seat belt so that he could hug the guy. To Peter's surprise, Neal didn't reject to this gesture. More than that, he began to cry softly. Because of the fear, pain and despair. Peter let him. He held him until he felt Neal collapsed in his arms._

_That wasn't good. So Peter pushed Neal back into the passenger seat and felt his pulse before he got out of the car, looking for a wheelchair. Neal's heart rate was fast. His breathing was shallow. His arms were cold. And his skin wet from sweat._

_In no time he had managed Neal in a wheelchair and had found a doctor who examined Neal. During the medical procedure, Neal had been quiet. Very quiet. Even so quiet that the staff wondered if Neal had taken anything for the pain. But Peter knew that Neal was able to shut himself out completely from the world around him. He knew this. Neal had done it after Kate's death. _

_After the painful and humiliating examinations, the cause was clear. The doctor had told them that Neal suffered from a severe abdominal infection. After that Peter drove home with Neal as fast as possible. Against the advice of the doctor, of course. But Peter hadn't had the heart to leave the sick man any longer in the hospital. He had spoken with his wife and then all had been clear. Neal was coming home with him. _

_On the way back Neal appeared to be much quieter. And he told Peter that he was afraid of hospitals, doctors, syringes, and the whole medical stuff. And that he was very grateful that Peter wanted to take care of him._

_xxx_

"He told me that night that he is terrified of doctors and syringes. You should have seen his face. He looked so fragile, so weak. I...I don't want to betray him." Elizabeth stroked his back while they still hugged each other.

"Oh, darling, no one will betray him. Don't worry," she reassured her husband and let him go so that she could look him right into his eyes. El was right. When Peter was in the hospital with Neal, there wasn't much he could do besides waiting. And now he wanted to try everything within his powers to help Neal. But after he had told his wife about the fever and infection, the situation was slightly differently. They couldn't help him and all they could give him was love and understanding.

It was time for professional help. Before it was too late.

Peter sighed. Dejected, he looked down and dropped his shoulders.

"You're right, El. But I want to tell him what we are going. He's awake. I tell him, after he has taken his medicine. He also asked for water, so..." Peter put his index finger on Elizabeth's lips.

"I go and get the pills. You go to Neal." El's eyes were suddenly much brighter. Unbelievable.

Peter was so proud of his wife. He was amazed how strong she was. She always found the strength to overlook all. No matter how big the chaos was. All she needed was a hug sometimes. Or simply a kiss and her world was right again. _In this regard, she was so much stronger than Peter himself._

When he re-entered the room, Neal sat in bed and looked at him sharply. His look was grave and reproachful. Peter immediately knew that Neal had heard the conversation.

"I knew it. Peter. I have caused unnecessary worry to your wife. I'm so sorry. I want to go back to my apartment. I'm sorry, Peter." Peter sighed. He wouldn't agree to Neal's wishes. It hurt him so much to see the young man so guilty. Those big eyes. Those pain filled blue eyes. He just stood there and didn't know what he should do next. He just knew that those blue eyes were fixed on him.

"Please, Peter. Let me...I want to go back to m-my home...b-but...please don't bring me back to the hospital..."

"Easy, Neal. Calm down." Peter sat down beside him on the bed and placed a hand on his knee.

"No, El didn't mean it like that. You didn't make her upset. She only finds it very difficult to see you like this. She feels powerless. She is very concerned to see you so sick and knowing that we are helpless. What you need is medical assistance. El has become aware of that. And I agree with her, buddy."

Peter tightened his grip on the knee, as Neal began to tremble. Suddenly he was so fragile. Broken and weak. Neal Caffrey was barely recognizable.

Peter could feel Neal's glowing skin caused by the fever.

"I want to... go back, but not...go to the hospital," Neal said in a soft and childlike voice. Peter nodded.

"I understand that, buddy. But the antibiotics don't seem to really help."

Neal hung his head sadly.

Neal wanted to say how good it was to have someone with him and all. He felt better if he wasn't alone! He didn't want to go to the hospital. Because there was no one who calmed him down when he was scared or in pain. He wanted to stay with Peter and Elizabeth!

_There_ was only silence at the clinic, panic, chaos and death. _And above all_, _loneliness_. Just like he had felt in his apartment when he almost died of pain and no one had been there for him, who could help him. He didn't want to be treated by doctors and nurses who didn't know him at all. He hated the whole idea. The sterile smell, those horrible green walls and the tasteless pictures in the hallway. Those cold and ugly rooms, which reminded him of his former prison cell. And those beds, in which hundreds of people had died.

And those countless syringes!

The many syringes and drugs they gave you which have you completely paralyzed, without really knowing if it was useful! All of these technical devices, doctors and nurses who were playing Russian roulette with him. He was at their mercy and had no control.

_Not being able to be in control...perhaps that was what frightened him so much. _

While he had this fearful thoughts, he felt his cheeks blushing red with shame. He thought at least that it was shame. _At that time he wasn't able to trust himself anymore._

Peter stared at him for a while. He saw what was going on with Neal. And he also saw that Neal knew that he saw it. Neal was scared.

"I just don't want to go to the hospital," muttered Neal eventually.

He sounded so young.

His scratchy voice felt like a blow to the stomach for Peter.

Elizabeth came with a glass of water and a box of tablets. Neal's head shot up and he looked at Elizabeth with a sad look. He felt so guilty about everything. He felt so small and helpless, paralyzed by his fear of the hospital. It did cost him a lot of power, but he contrived to give her an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry...s-so sorry about the veil, El. I-I swear that I will fix anything, if I feel better." He was panting with the effort and felt tired; all the time Elizabeth hadn't left his side. Quietly, he began to cry. She smiled at him encouragingly. _Yes, Neal was confused indeed. And even if it was pathetic, Peter and his wife knew that this was not a good sign._

"Oh...Neal, sweetie. This curtain isn't important to me. Don't worry about it. No one blames you." She gave him a tender look as she handed him the glass of water and two pills. Neal's shoulders were shaking slightly as he tried to calm down.

"Here, my dear. And then you're going to rest again. I just had an idea." With two fingers, Neal grabbed the pills and put them into his mouth with a sigh. With both hands he took the glass and drank some water to swallow the pills. He hadn't heard the last sentence. But Peter looked at his wife quizzically.

"What idea?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and smiled and then took the empty glass from the clammy hands of Neal.

"Our family doctor. If the doctor decides that Neal should better go to the hospital, we will take him there. I am very worried about you, Neal. But if there's no other way, we have to do it. Now that we know that you are afraid, we will leave no stone unturned." Neal looked incredulously at her with his mouth open. His bright blue eyes were clear and he nodded his thanks.

"Thank you, Elizabeth." She smiled as she played with Neal's disheveled hair, looking tenderly at her husband. Peter nodded pleased.

"El, you're fantastic. When is he coming? The doctor, I mean?" Elizabeth blinked.

"He? Peter, it's a she. Doctor Gillian. Our family doctor, have you already forgotten? She had an free appointment today. She'll be right there."

"Oh." Peter frowned at the name. Immediately he hung his shoulders.

He remembered the last time the doctor came to visit. Peter had suffered a lumbago after lifting a footlocker. The doctor had examined him and Peter had repeatedly screamed in pain. Then he had listened to the two women who had said things like "exaggeration" and "men ... tsss". Since that time he was ashamed, when the conversation turned to Dr. Gillian. Because of that it wasn't surprising that he wasn't particularly happy about a visit by Dr. Gillian.

When he looked at Neal, who smiled tiredly but extremely satisfied, Peter shook his head. This wasn't about his, but Neal's welfare.

xxx

When Dr. Gillian rang the doorbell, Peter went to let the guest in. Satchmo was in the kitchen, watching the door carefully. Peter sighed tense before he opened the front door. Then he stood face to face with the tall blond woman, nodding politely at her.

The woman hadn't changed much in three years. Her blond hair was now a little longer. And she wore a wedding ring. Her face still had that smile. All he could see in her bright green eyes was a certain amount of amusement. At least he thought so. Or maybe his memory played a joke on him. But the thoughts of intimidation that he felt while being with her was there no less.

"Mr. Burke it's been a long time since we last saw each other. Speaks well for my work, isn't it?" Peter relaxed his shoulders.

"Thank you for coming, Dr Gillian. My wife has informed you about the situation?" He politely shook her hand and let her inside. Doctor Gillian grabbed her purple scarf and gave it to Peter.

"Would you hang it up, my dear? Elizabeth told me that she's concerned. I guess that's why I shouldn't waste time, right?" The doctor went into the house and Peter looked perplexed at the scarf in his hands. After a few seconds, he closed the door. With a grimace, he saw the doctor was on her way to the second floor, with a black suitcase in her hand. Satchmo yawned and then moaned. Peter laughed.

"Well said, Satchmo. Well said."

xxx

The visit from the doctor took less than 15 minutes. It was soon clear that Neal's infection had spread to the bowel. This meant that the administered antibiotics wasn't sufficient enough. Doctor Gillian had told the Burke's that the man should better go to the hospital. But after these words, Neal was very restless. As a result, it was agreed with the doctor that the treatment would take place at home first. Too much stress wasn't good for him in his weakened state. Neal got a more aggressive antibiotic injection. Still, there was another problem. Neal was dehydrated by vomiting and sweating. As a result, he was often confused. It also explained the dizziness, the emotional outbursts and slow reactions. For this reason, Dr. Gillian wanted to give him an infusion.

The antacid pills and painkillers had to be administered regularly for a week. In order to reduce the fever, Neal had to take two little pink pills three times a day. The advantage of these drugs was that he was much calmer and the pain subsided. The downside was that they made him sleepy and he had to be woken up for the recurring medicine doses.

"...the antibiotic injection should some effect within the next 8 hours. But if the pain or fever doesn't subside, I'm afraid that Neal has to go to the hospital for further examinations. And if I may say so, Mr. Caffrey, the fear of hospitals is more common than you think and you don't have to feel ashamed. Especially men between 30-50 relatively often call the family doctor, but don't want to go to the hospital. Now, there are drugs for these problems... "

"Thank you, Dr. Gillian. But I believe that Neal would want to stay here. With us," Peter interrupted her when he saw that Neal's face got paler and paler every second. The young man looked at the doctor with his big blue eyes and his fear of having to go to the hospital could be clearly seen on his face. Elizabeth smiled apologetically at the doctor and put a protective hand on Neal's shoulder.

Nobody spoke.

El could see that the doctor was surprised. She trusted Peter's instinct and stood completely behind him with his decision. There was nothing Dr. Gillian could do other than to get the equipment, in order to start the treatment of Neal.

"Uhm...of course, Mr. Burke. Then I think I'm done here so far. I will make sure that Mr. Caffrey gets an infusion. And I think we all agree that I am coming back after 8 hours again to conduct a new examination. I hope very much that your decision is right, Peter." The doctor looked at him intently and Peter felt his cheeks were slightly red. But at least he had won this time.

"... are...weeee done...?" Neal said with a sleepy voice. He leaned his head against El's shoulder. "I ... I want to sleep," Neal sighed softly and sounded sincere. The young man was heavily drugged and no longer able to maintain his head up and began to cry frustrated because of that.

"Issss she...gooone...?" Neal lamented again. This time a little louder. Peter felt a bit satisfied and he struggled to keep a straight face. El apologized for the loquacious man.

"I think I should go. Mr. Caffrey, remember don't take your condition too easily. Call me, if you have pain or other problems." Dr Gillian smiled as the sleepy man who was still holding his hand in the same place where he had just received an injection. He was too upset to smile at her too, and looked at her reproachfully. As time went by he was getting tired and his eyes got dull. El got out of bed and made sure that Neal leaned against the bed-head. Then she escorted the doctor to the door, while Peter stayed with Neal.

Peter stared at the young man while he was trying to sink in all of the information, he just had heard from Dr. Gillian. The white face of Neal had painted a rosy glow. Peter sighed.

"Are you okay?" Peter finally asked quietly. The young man was already halfway into a deep sleep. Apparently the drugs already showed the first effect. The blue in his eyes was replaced by the growing black pupils. A chill suddenly covered his body and he looked at Peter with a nervous grimace.

"The doctor waaaas much worse than the one in the hospital..., Peter." He laughed and banged his head against the wooden bed frame. Peter laughed with him. And saw that it was time to put the drugged man flat on the mattress.

"Come on, Neal. Slip down a bit. You should better sleep now."

Apparently Neal hadn't fully understood what Peter had said and looked at him sleepily.

Peter sighed and went to the bed, grabbed Neal gently by the ankles and pulled him down. Neal groaned just as his head touched the pillow and moaned about this sudden change in his sitting position.

For a while there was silence.

Neal then sighed once more and decided to press his head further in the pillow. "Hmmmm. Pet'r sleep...well..." Neal's words were barely intelligible. "I...I...love you ..." The young man fell immediately into a deep sleep after these strange words, and Peter couldn't help but giggle out loud.

"Yeah, Neal. Sleep well, buddy."

Peter planned to share this strange adventure as soon as possible with his friend when Neal was healthy again. At least he had something with which he could bring up to Neal. He could see Neal in front of him, who would blush at the descriptions. Neal surely would be ashamed. _Neal Caffrey. The man who had been crying in his arms. Who had called him a hero. And who had just said that he loved him. Oh yeah, that would be fun._

_xxx_

Three hours later Neal felt a hand on his shoulder and was gently shaken back and forth. After a few seconds he opened his eyes briefly because he was sure he had heard his name several times.

"Mmm...yeaaah..." Neal groaned hoarsely and sounded frustrated. He felt as if he had hit by a truck. His head throbbed and his tongue felt terribly dry in the mouth.

"Neal! Wake up, partner." Neal recognized the voice of Peter. Even now, he sounded far away and he opened his eyes again. "What ...," Neal said, finally a bit more awake.

He blinked a few times before he recognized Peter's face. The man leaned over him and looked angrily. No...he looked guilty.

"What?...Pet'r? ... I-I...what's going on? What have I done?" His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as if he was drunk. He had trouble forming words. This was even more difficult with the medication he had received recently. His memory came back slowly.

Peter put his hand on Neal's shoulder and frowned as he bit his lower lip.

"Neal. You have to get up. Get up, Neal. Get out of bed. Sorry, buddy." As he spoke, Peter squeezed his eyes together and his voice sounded as if he blamed Neal for everything.

Neal was too sleepy to realize what his friend said and was shocked by Peter's face.

"Come on, pal. You have to change your clothes. Here are fresh ones. Elizabeth has just got it out of the dryer." He tossed the pajamas and boxer shorts on the bed. Neal looked at him in silence. His breathing was slow and Peter could hear him sigh.

Peter hoped that Neal was a bit clearer, so that he would be able to dress himself. When Peter looked back at him, he noted that Neal had closed his eyes again. With a sigh, Peter shook his head.

"Neal. Get yourself dressed." He tapped his hand against Neal's feet who glanced at him confused. This time his eyes stayed open longer.

"Neal. Don't make such a fuss!" Neal blinked and sat down on the mattress. Only now he noticed that something wasn't right. Dazed, he looked at his wet lap. Apparently he now understood what had happened and bit his bottom lip a little ashamed. Peter saw that Neal did his best to hide his face and he sighed sympathetically. He turned and stared at the closed door, so that Neal had a little more privacy. Behind him he heard some noises.

"And careful with your arm. I don't want you to pull out the IV so that Dr. Gillian has to come back. You were dehydrated, remember? This is probably the reason why you...," Peter stopped talking when he heard Neal mutter quietly.

"How's your stomach? Is the pain gone?" Peter wanted to distract Neal a little with a conversation. He still had his back to Neal and could hear him moving around. After a few minutes, Peter felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. Surprise Peter turned and saw that Neal was wearing pajama pants and the bed was made thoroughly. It was also a surprise to see the young man standing on his own two feet. He was clutching the infusion stand with one hand and that was the reason why he was able to stand upright. Neal looked tired, weak and thin. But he seemed to have no pain. And that was a good sign.

"I-I have to go to the bathroom," Neal stammered softly, as politely as possible. He went with the portable IV pole in his hand and took small shuffling steps towards the door, leaving Peter behind.

xxx

After this embarrassing moment Neal had gone back to bed. Peter had brought new bed sheets, while Neal was in the bathroom and sat waiting in one of the chairs so he could give him his medicine. After that was done, Peter helped him back under the blanket. For a while he just studied the young man.

"Are you okay?" Neal nodded.

"You don't look so bad after all. No more pain?" Neal shook his head, and buried his head in the pillow. His frown was deep and dark. It was clear to see that the man didn't want to talk. So Peter rose from his chair and patted him gently on the shoulder before he turned around and wanted to go outside. Shocked, he stopped when he felt cold fingers on his hand.

"Peter...d-does El knows about… well… what just had happened...?" Peter sighed and shook his head. His look was sympathetic.

"She's walking the dog. Don't worry. No one will ever know." Neal sighed with relief. His eyes were clear and for a while he just stared at the ceiling. Then he closed his eyes slowly and Neal dozed off to sleep. All this time Peter hadn't let the young man out of sight.

* * *

**AN: Boy o boy. This was a weird chapter, right? And what possesses me to humiliate poor Neal like that? Let him wet his bed afrond of all the nice readers. I shut be punished! **

**Anyway, thanks for reading this. Stay close. Tomorow there will be an other update. Review review!**

**X**

**Josi**


	5. Chapter 5

Eight hours had passed since then.

Neal's condition hadn't changed and he had slept most of the time. He hadn't moved much in the last four hours and even when Peter tried to wake him in order to give him the pills, he had been unsuccessful. Although he looked much more peaceful and less paler. Anyway, Peter had failed to administer the medicine and get Neal to drink. Even El hadn't succeed, so she and her husband decided let it go for the moment. Right now, Neal slept peacefully and it seemed that he had no pain so far. But the final outcome was still pending. Therefore, the couple hoped that Dr. Gillian would offer them good news at her next visit.

The doorbell could ring any moment.

Elizabeth and Peter sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. They were tense.

They didn't talk to each other. Not because they were mad at each other. And not because they still were concerned about Neal. Mainly because they were so tired. Neal was a good man. That was not the point. And he was seriously ill and therefore very dependent on El and Peter. But now he seemed doing better and the normalcy slowly returned. The more they felt now, how much strength it had taken for both of them, to look out for Neal Caffrey. It had cost them a great toll. For this reason, they were hoping that Dr. Gillian would provide them positive results. So all would be normal again. And that El and Peter were able to sleep one night in their own bed. Together.

The television was playing quietly in the background, to provide some variety at least. It helped a little, because the atmosphere was relaxed. But it took more to create a smile on Peter's and El's faces again.

Peter stared eagerly at the steaming coffee cup in his hand and watched as the bubbles burst one after another. Elizabeth had supported her head on her hand and had the same look like Peter.

After another minute, El suddenly sighted frustrated.

"Honey. If you continue to act like this, I'll be sick, too." Peter looked at his wife. He was tired.

"I'm sorry," El apologized, then closed her blue eyes and shook her head exhausted.

"Don't worry, honey. Drink your coffee, before it turns cold."

Peter nodded, and a smile appeared on his face. Frankly, he wasn't in the mood for coffee. He just wished that the day would end soon. He wanted to sleep through the entire night. _Speaking of time..._

With a sideways glance at the kitchen clock, he saw that it was after eleven pm. The doctor should have been there a long time ago. El sighed and sat up in her chair.

"I'll go and check how our con-man is doing. Can you keep an eye on the door?" She got up and slowly approached her husband and ran a hand through his hair before she went upstairs. Peter leaned back in the loving touch and closed his eyes, sighing.

"Mhm. Yes, hon."

Just as Elizabeth had reached the third step, the doorbell rang. Satchmo pricked-eared watched the door and sat up expectantly.

"Ah, she's finally here," El smiled weakly. Peter looked at her and stood up.

After Peter had opened the door, he was confronted with Dr. Gillian. Ones again. The tall blonde woman was wearing her hair open and also had the same scarf on like she had on her first visit. In one hand she carried the medical bag and an umbrella in the other.

"Good evening, Mr. Burke." She smiled kindly at the agent. Peter nodded and took a step back invitingly. "How's our patient?" She asked. This time her question was addressed to Elizabeth, who was standing at the top of the stairs. As before, Dr. Gillian gave Peter her scarf and in addition to that the wet umbrella.

"Should we take a look? Ulg, the weather is quiet nasty this evening, isn't it?"

"Yeah, we should. And yeah well, a little rain won't hurt," El replied.

Peter watched the scene between Gillian and Elizabeth, and couldn't believe that this happened to him once again. He put the umbrella on the radiator and hung the scarf to the coat rack. After that he hastily followed them upstairs to the guest room.

Meanwhile, Dr. Gillian had already taken care of the infusion. The infusion bottle was empty. Overall, the doctor had administered 1 liter. She put a hand on Neal's forehead and realized that his temperature had fallen a couple degrees. Nodding, she registered the fact. Then Dr. Gillian went to the foot of the bed and took her bag. El and Peter waited in silence on the prognosis.

Smiling, the doctor looked down at the young man. Some color had appeared on Neal's face during his sleep. His eyelids were still swollen though and his hair hung disheveled and heavy over his forehead. "Hmm, he looks a bit better," the blonde woman said softly. Peter and El nodded relieved. Despite everything, the man still looked pale and thin. "I will listen to his heartbeat and perform a couple of tests just like the last time. Like taking his blood pressure and his temperature. It appears that the injection has worked well. I think he will soon be better." The doctor smiled at the two and began to search for the instruments she had in her medical kit. When she looked up, a pair of blue eyes glanced at her.

"Oh, good evening, Mr. Caffrey. I see you are awake. How do you feel?" the blonde woman asked and took out her stethoscope from the bag. "Good evening...Eliza-," Neal started sleepy. But the man could tell right away that something was wrong. There were no hands that caressed his hair. And no feeling of warmth, or comfort. That was weird. Neal took some time to let his eyes wander around and was surprised when he saw the blonde doctor. Stiff with terror at the sight of the bag and the woman who was unknown to him, he remained motionless. Peter saw the fear in Neal's' eyes and stepped a little closer to the bed so that Neal could see him.

"It's okay, Neal. This is Dr. Gillian. Do you remember? She wants to do a few tests to see if you're feeling better. Like the last time." The blonde woman laughed and looked amused at the young man who got paler by the second.

And Neal nodded.

"I know. I can still remember the last time...," the young man said quietly, even though everyone thought he had forgotten the last visit. But he remembered everything. Among other things, that he had received an injection. And the fact that he was connected to an infusion wasn't comforting him at all.

"You don't have to worry, Mr. Caffrey. I won't give you another shot." The blonde woman smiled and hung the stethoscope around her neck. Neal looked at her. Then he looked at the IV pole. His shallow breathing resulting from his panic, relaxed. His big blue eyes glimpsed on Elizabeth, who looked at him tenderly. Peter tapped with his shoe on the floor as he cleared his throat.

"Maybe you should explain what you're doing next. He seems to be a little nervous." When Neal heard these phrases and the giggles of the doctor, he felt his cheeks blush. "No, it's OK, Peter. I was just confused earlier. Go ahead, Dr. Gillian."

With his perfect _Caffrey_ smile he wanted to convince the others, but to his surprise, Dr. Gillian nodded and exchanged amused glances with Peter and Elizabeth, who also both smiled. Neal was uncertain. _Since when was his charm no longer effective? Why were they laughing at him?_ With the realization that he probably made a bad figure, Neal hung his shoulders.

"Well, Mr. Caffrey. Please sit up straight." Neal nodded kindly. With narrowed eyes, he tried to elbow his upper body. With difficulty he managed to rise from the mattress and was a bit scared. His body was so stiff and weak from too much sleep and the disease itself. Nevertheless, he finally sat upright, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed and he looked at Peter seriously. Peter looked back at him with a pitying smile. Every color in Neal's' face was gone when he first sat upright in a long time. He needed all his energy to not faint. And apparently this has been registered. One hand on his chest stabilized his position and for that he was grateful. It took a while for the dancing points in front of Neal's eyes to vanish.

"Can you take off your shirt?" the doctor asked a little softer now. Neal nodded. But his confidence began to wane, as he felt his shoulders began to tremble with the effort. He was miserable when he felt the hand of Dr. Gillian on his back. Neal sighed deeply and unconsciously began to tug at his shirt. It was not long until Neal noticed that he began to gasp and wheeze of this action. And it was only a matter of time before El would intervene with helping. Whether he liked it or not, this had to be done.

"Not to worry, Mr. Caffrey. What you are experiencing is completely normal. Your body has gone through a lot. And you don't have to be ashamed of anything." Doctor Gillian smiled at him and Neal was stunned by the sudden sympathy. His mouth was open slightly as he realized that probably a bit of his old charm still seemed to work. With this thought, he straightened his back.

El gulped at the sight of Neal's bare chest. Considering the short time the young man had lost some weight. His ribs were clearly visible, even though Neal has always been very slim, it was time that he ate something again, soon. With one hand she stroked his back and held him upright while the doctor brought her stethoscope in place. At the same time she sat down beside him on the bed.

"Then let's listen to the heart and lungs."

El saw Neal nod.

Doctor Gillian didn't hesitate to put the cold stethoscope on Neal's warm skin. Neal twitched briefly as he felt the cold metal and bit his lip in frustration.

At this time there was dead silence in the room. Neal stared straight ahead, while El's eyes sought those of her husband. Peter looked alternately worried between her and Neal. Despite his pale face and his thin body, he seemed to do better. His bright eyes were almost completely back. And his senses seemed more strongly alerted once again. In addition, he was no longer writhed in pain.

"Breathe in…good. And out…excellent. That sounds good. Your heart is fine. It's all okay," the doctor said with satisfaction.

"Perfect," Neal muttered, clearing his throat immediately. The doctor frowned.

"Do you have a sore throat?"

Neal shook his head. But before he could say anything, the woman put a wooden spatula into his mouth. "Say Aahhh." Neal blinked perplexed with his eyes, but did as he was told.

"Aaaaah."

"Okay. Your throat is a little sore. But that is probably caused by the constant vomiting," the doctor said introverted. Neal wanted to say that he had difficulty in swallowing, but he got no chance and gave up.

Test after test came. The doctor seemed satisfied with Neal's condition. That was good news. But as Neal thought the tests were over, Dr. Gillian had another surprise for him in store.

"Okay. And now to the most important examination, Mr. Caffrey. I want you to lay back comfortably. And Mrs. Burke? Would you be so kind to make some space?"

El blinked and stood up next to her husband while they automatically searched for the hands of each other.

Doctor Gillian pressed one hand gently on the abdomen of Neal. With the other hand, she knocked on the back of the hand. Neal could feel the vibrations and it was not pleasant. Especially not in the stomach. He looked at the doctor gravely, when she touched a certain area. A low cry escaped his lips and his hands clutched convulsively on the blanket. This was a clear indication that the infection had not completely subsided yet. But significantly reduced.

"That hurt, right?"

Neal was shaking his head to answer "_No_", but he decided not to lie. So he nodded slowly.

El and Peter exchanged glances with each other and the doctor began to stow her instruments back in the bag. And that meant that the doctor's visit came to an end.

"And?" Peter asked finally and wanted to know the result of the examination. He looked at Dr. Gillian expectantly.

"And what?" Retorted the doctor, a strange grin on her face. It almost seemed that she wanted to bring up Peter again. Elizabeth had noticed this and sighed.

"And? Is everything okay with Neal? asked Elizabeth, a slight annoyance audible in her tone. Dr. Gillian finally lifted her shoulders and smiled contentedly.

"Mr. Caffrey is doing fine. The worst is behind us. But his body has to regain his strength. It takes at least a week before he will be fully recovered. Give him some soup with easily digestible ingredients. Nothing that would upset his intestines. No coffee. And let him sleep if he wants to. That will do him some good."

El looked at Peter and then nodded towards Neal, who was sleepily lying on the bed.

Dr. Gillian was led out of the room by El and Peter listened as they went downstairs. When he was alone with Neal, Peter let out a deep sigh. At the moment he needed some time to process the instructions of the doctor. Peter shook his head and looked toward the bed.

"So. No coffee. You heard that, Caffrey?" Peter grinned.

He knew that Neal would have a problem with that instruction. But Peter got no answer. Below, he heard the doctor with Elizabeth. Satchmo barked alerted one time when the door was opened by Elizabeth. Until now, the faithful dog had been down there and eyed the visitor critically. Peter grinned as he thought of the face Satmcho had pulled as Dr. Gillian had gone upstairs for the first visit. Peter was startled in his thoughts by a faint whimpering and turned to the bed, where Neal was trying to get up. Peter laughed at him and grabbed the shirt.

"You should put the shirt on, before you catch a cold." Neal sighed wearily. With one hand Peter reached for Neal's arm to help him sit up. He was shocked by the lack of resistance when he pulled the shirt over Neal. Neal looked at him with glassy eyes and suddenly began to giggle. Peter frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing. You know, it's been a very long time since anyone has done something like this for me."

"What? Helping you to dress? Neal...that happened not so long ago, as you might think." Neal looked at him quizzically. He tried to understand Peter's words, but eventually he had to give up and shrugged. Peter sat down beside him on the bed and placed a hand on his knee.

"Last night. You ran a high fever. And El and I had to cool you." He didn't look to the left side, so he didn't see how the young man blushed. Neal lay back on the mattress and put an arm over his eyes to cover his shame.

"Oooohhh...right...," Neal groaned weakly. "Thanks for reminding me..."

Peter bowed his head to hide his smile as he leaned his elbows on his knees and silently shook his head.

For a while neither spoke.

The silence was finally broken by the growling stomach of Neal. Peter looked at him and saw the frustrated look of Neal, who suddenly rubbed his belly.

"You okay?" Peter asked his CI. Neal shook his head as he still rubbed his belly and sighed. His face was greenish.

"Not since nurse Ratched tortured my stomach again," Neal answered. He sounded so young while saying it. And even though Neal was really sick and didn't simulate, Peter couldn't resist teasing him.

"Oh, cowboy up, Neal. The worst is over, buddy." He grinned at him. Neal shot a dirty look back. But when he wanted to respond, the door opened again. Elizabeth waited in the doorway, smiling broadly, a tray with a cup of tea and a bowl with steaming soup.

"Well, Neal. On the advice of Dr. Gillian. You need something in your stomach before you take these antibiotics." She picked up a plastic box with a daily ration of pills and shook it. That was enough for Neal to drop back to whining.

"No, no, no soup. I-I cannot eat now, really," Neal whined weakly.

El and Peter smiled slightly. After everything that had happened to them this weekend, they could justifiably claim that Neal had behaved like a little spoiled child. But it was a bit of their own fault, too.

"And when can I go home? I miss my own soft bed and the beautiful view and June and Moz," Neal whimpered in a lying position. Meanwhile, Peter took the pills from his wife and put them on the bedside table. With a grin, he looked at his wife and began to stir the soup, so that it cooled a bit. El grabbed a chair and pushed it close to the bed.

"Neal. If you don't eat up the soup, Peter and I will have to force you." Neal sighed and sat up with difficulty. As he staggered a little, Peter stretched out his hand, but the young man had found the balance quickly.

"Okay. Then give me the bowl," Neal sighed monotonous. And then he began to eat slowly.  
It was quiet for a long time, while El and Peter didn't let him out of sight. Neal in turn gave his best and ate the soup spoon for spoon. After he had enough, he reached for the tea and took a sip. Immediately he tasted the sweet honey in it. He blinked and looked surprised at Elizabeth. She smiled.

"For your sore throat."

She watched him intensely while he was drinking his tea and she could see his eyes were getting glassy. It was not long until his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. So it was time for Peter to give him the pills before Neal would finally fell asleep. The young man was weak and not fully recovered. But he was on the right way to get healthy again.

Peter pushed the sleeping Neal carefully back on the mattress and placed his head very gently on the pillow. El was at his side to put the blanket over Neal. Then she gave Peter a soft kiss before she took the tray and left the room. When she went downstairs, Peter tried to drape the blanket carefully around Neal. Neal sighed contentedly, his head turned to one side and he muttered something in his sleep.

"P'tr...you w-will a-always… b-be my hero..."

**THE END**

* * *

**AN: The End. That's it. Now there are only a few days left for the beginning of the next season of White Collar! :D... but anyway..**

**I'm so glad Melles had translated this for me. Again I say. But it was fun, right?**

**I hope you liked it all and have a nice weekend! "het ga je goed!"**

**X**

**Josi**


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